


Anger

by silvergryphon



Series: Black and Gold Verse [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Healing, Medical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 19:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11698599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergryphon/pseuds/silvergryphon
Summary: Anger leads to hate, or so Master Yoda always said. But it’s not quite so black and white for an Empath. Vader finds this a startling revelation.OrNaroko Chiston’s been a heretic this entire time and he just never realized this until now.





	Anger

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, another Black and Gold fic! I've had this one squirreled away for a while but I've been stupid busy. Finally started on another fic and realized I should post this!

It was the fourth time she had seen Darth Vader in person.

The first had been the most frightening, that day when she'd been discovered by a pair of Inquisitors while on a mission and he'd unexpectedly shown up. For all their talks through the Force, she'd always been keenly aware of the risk she'd been taking. There was always the chance that he could simply be playing her, luring her into a trap by letting her think that he was willing to listen to what she had to say. She'd always had the protection afforded by distance, and the fact that they were meeting in no physical place but some strange spirit realm where only their consciousnesses could travel. Darth Vader could not physically harm her in that place, and she'd been aware that if she encountered him in person he could kill her just as easily as he'd killed dozens of other Jedi.

But he'd saved her life. He'd let her go. And she dared hope she'd managed to actually reach him, that somewhere in Darth Vader some spark of Anakin Skywalker not only survived, but had started to shine through, just a little.

The second time had been frightening as well, and for much the same reason. He'd come to meet her and her former apprentice and their squad of clones on a little ship they'd outfitted specially. This was a planned meeting, and it would have been so easy for him to bring along Imperial forces to destroy them- or barring that, to board their ship and kill not only herself, but Ayliah and the Distaffs too. That would have been an utter disaster. The seven of them knew Rebellion secrets, secrets that could bring a whole new world of trouble if Vader had pried the information from them. And slaying her and Ayliah would have not only robbed the galaxy of two of its only remaining Jedi Knights, but its only trained Jedi Healers as well, effectively obliterating the knowledge and lore they carried with them.

But he'd done no such thing. He'd spent the first half of his visit radiating a sense of hope that he'd clearly been trying to suppress- hope they could, in fact, help him, but smothered by a sense of 'of course they can't, and it would be pointless and painful to expect anything else'.

It had half-broken her heart to feel that coming off of him, and she'd flung herself into the task of beginning to scope out what needed to be done and start healing some of his many injuries. She was too-well trained to spend herself recklessly, but she'd pushed hard, and gone out of her way to heal one thing she knew he wasn't expecting her to heal- his eyes. They'd been damaged badly when he'd burned, left painfully sensitive to light and almost useless outside of his protective mask.

She'd reapred the damage, pouring Force energy into him in a green-gold stream of healing power. It had been tiring, yes, but oh, the look on his pale, scarred face when he'd opened his eyes and realized that he could see, that he wasn't blinded by the bright lights of the _Ryllrunner'_ s little operating room, had been worth it. She'd sensed the hope in him then, the first time she'd sensed it in him since the end of the war, and promised herself she would see him whole once more.

The third time had horrified her more than it had frightened her.

It wasn't a scheduled meeting. When they'd been planning this entire thing, she'd been very clear on one matter: she could not and would not mend him all at once. On one hand, it was physically impossible for her and Ayliah, with help from their squad's medic, Mercy, to repair all the damage in one session. There was simply too much to do, and he would need time in between sessions to recover and heal. And to try and make major changes all at once would be to invite Palpatine's suspicion- and wrath. So they would work in stages. Naroko and Ayliah would focus on one or two organ systems, or general regions, while Mercy assisted and her sister Tinker worked on making upgrades to Vader's suit and cybernetics. These would be subtle upgrades for the most part, things that wouldn't get noticed immediately at Vader's regular medical checkups, but even things like altering the structure of his prosthetic feet so his weight wasn't always centered improperly over his toes would go a long way towards improving his general physical state.

But no, the third meeting hadn't been one of their scheduled sessions. He'd reached out to her through the Force, specified a time and a set of coordinates, and simply told her he needed help. She'd taken Ayliah and the Distaffs off immediately to meet him, and when he'd docked his personal TIE with the _Ryllrunner_ and stepped off-

Naroko had been horrified. He'd nearly collapsed then and there, would have if she and Mercy hadn't leaped forward to support his weight and helped him to the infirmary. His armor was pitted and scorched, half-melted in places, and his respirator-

That strained, grating sound would probably ring in her nightmares for a long time to come. It had sounded as if it were mere moments from giving out entirely. They'd gotten him on a table and hooked up to the respirator unit they had set up for him for his sessions and gotten to work. This time it was Tinker who helped the two Jedi rather than Mercy, for Tinker was needed to repair the damaged respirator. Naroko barely noticed the clone's presence as she flung her awareness into Vader's body, seeking out the damaged places. There were burns, mostly at the stumps of his limbs where flesh met prosthetics, and she could practically taste the imbalance in his blood chemistry that told her that he'd been severely electrocuted. The patterns were all there, the burn sites where the current had entered his body and arced clean through him, the residual twitches in his muscles as damaged nerves misfired, and the worrying, slight arrhythmia in his heart.

She'd seen to that first, gotten him stable, and had been about to pull out entirely when she asked him what had happened.

To her surprise he didn't answer her mind to mind, only silently pleaded that she heal his damaged throat and larynx so he could speak on his own. It seemed an odd request, since he was perfectly capable of speaking to her telepathically and hearing her replies- she'd had spent a fair part of her time last session talking to him that way as she'd worked on him, explaining what she was doing and why and always making sure he was alright with what she was doing- but she'd agreed and made some swift repairs to the damaged tissues, just enough he could speak without his helmet's vocoder. In a rasping whisper he'd explained that it had been Palpatine who'd done this to him, as punishment for his failure on an assignment, and that he hadn't dared go to his usual medical team. His clone medic Hypo had taken one look at him and insisted that he go straight to Naroko, because he wouldn't be able to help enough. Hypo and his brother Fixer had kept him just long enough to make a few interim repairs to his respirator and limbs to get him there, then let him go.

It had been a near thing, and that had scared her more than she wanted to admit. Even Ayliah was terribly shaken, seeing the results of Palpatine's 'discipline' first-hand.

This was the fourth time she'd seen Vader in person, and for once it wasn't frightening. Even her former apprentice had calmed down somewhat and stopped glaring at Vader the entire time they were in the same room, though the red-skinned Twi'lek still refused to turn her back to him.

She looked over at Ayliah as she helped settle Vader on the table again and let Mercy get him hooked up to the ship's life support unit. _One step at a time_.

<How are you feeling?> she asked instead, reaching for his nearest gauntleted hand. His eardrums had been all but melted on Mustafar, and he couldn't hear without the relays in his helmet. <May I take these off?>

He nodded, and she did so, stripping off the gauntlets and removing his cloak and pauldrons and the outer, exposed parts of his own life-support system, the chest panel and air pack he always wore, the upper part of his suit. "Much the same," he replied. His voice, still weak and raspy from her incomplete healing job his previous visit, was muffled by the clear plastic mask that now covered his nose and mouth, but his eyes were alert and fixed on Naroko, Ayliah, or Mercy in turn as they worked.

Ayliah took one look at his eyes, scowled, and immediately moved off towards his other side. Naroko couldn't blame her. They weren't pure Sith yellow rimmed in red, as Obi-Wan had told her they'd been on Mustafar, but they still weren't any natural color. The red rim had faded to a green shade, and there were significant flecks of blue among the yellow.

Still very unnerving, and still very much not Anakin Skywalker's eyes.

<And when you say much the same, you mean...> she prompted, as much to get her mind off those uncanny eyes as to actually get the information from him.

Vader shrugged, ever so slightly. "Still a lot of pain, but not as much as before you started working." He paused a moment, then added, "I did switch over to a lower dose of painkillers, though."

<Oh?> She arched both brows at him. <Good. I did not like your liver and kidney function last time. Hypo's been overseeing this?>

"He has."

"Pull the data from the onboard computer, Mercy," Ayliah ordered. Mercy, who'd been taking a blood sample for testing, nodded and obeyed. The clone bit her lower lip in concentration. The action drew the tattoo that ran from her lip to her chin taut. It was an expression of intense focus that her sisters and the two Jedi were quite familiar with.

Ayliah settled into a healing trance, her red fingers hovering just above Vader's shoulderblades, not quite touching him. Naroko saw this but did not comment. Ayliah had barely touched him during his last two sessions either, simply because she had not wanted to touch the man who'd killed so many people.

<She's going to strengthen your nerves and check your immune system,> Naroko explained. A flick of a hand brought a stool drifting over and she sat on it in front of Vader, nudged in just between his knees so she could reach him comfortably. <My task today is to start healing your inner ears, finish mending your vocal cords- I'm sorry about the shoddy job on that last time, by the way, I was getting tired- and see if I can actually help your lungs at all.>

"'Shoddy job'?" he repeated, brow crinkling in a frown. He'd never been one to really conceal his emotions well before, and apparently years of living in the suit had resulted in him simply giving up on even trying to hide his facial expressions. His expression was just as puzzled as the feelings radiating off him.

<Yes,> she said gently. She laid her palms on his chest, high enough her fingers could loosely curl over his shoulders, and she didn't miss the faint shiver that passed through him at the soft touch. Her expression, when she continued speaking, was kind and patient. <I didn't fix your throat and vocal cords as much as I know I should be able to, just enough to let you talk. It was a difficult session and I was tired. I'm sorry, dear one. I'll finish the job properly now.>

He stared at her as if he did not comprehend what she was saying. Over his shoulder, she caught Mercy giving him a puzzled look of her own. <I didn't expect you to...> he began, switching to mental speech, then trailed off. There was that faint flicker of hope, only to be squashed once more by resolute resignation. <You did well enough, Naroko. Don't worry.>

_Don't worry?_

<Vader...> she began. He didn't look up at her, just fixed his gaze at a point past her shoulder.

_Has he always been like this?_ she wondered. She prodded at her memory for similar reactions. She'd seen him plenty of times before for injuries or illnesses, both during his training and during the war. In nearly every case, she'd been able to fully heal whatever was wrong in a single session, from broken arms to any of the host of common childhood diseases he'd neither been exposed to on Tattooine or gotten a vaccine for and had managed to catch from younglings in the creche, to blaster wounds and the after-effects of electrocution, exposure, or just simple exhaustion. There'd only been a handful of times when she hadn't been able to fix everything at once, and yes, at those times he'd reacted similarly. He'd thanked her for what she had been able to do and acted as if he expected nothing more, seeming surprised when she asked him to come in for a second session. And now she thought of it, he'd sometimes reacted that way in other situations, as if he never simply assumed someone was going to take care of him, or make sure he had what he needed, and didn't want to press for more.

Her stomach knotted. Of course he never pressed for more. He'd been a slave as a child. Who gave a slave anything? What slave expected quality treatment, or enough of anything?

She had thought that he'd grown out of such a mindset during his years with the Order, but plainly at least _some_ of it remained.

_Probably reinforced by the treatment he gets from Palpatine and his Imperial medical team_ , she thought bitterly.

And oh Force, how had she never seen this before? How had Ayliah not seen it? Or Obi-Wan?

_If we never caught on to this worldview and helped him deal with it, what else did we miss?_

She touched his cheek lightly, turning his face back towards hers. <Dear one,> she murmured sadly. <I promise you, I will do everything in my power to heal you, to the fullest extent of my abilities, and to tell you what I cannot mend. I'm sorry I did not make it clear before. That was irresponsible of me, and it will not happen again.>

His expression flickered, those uncanny eyes meeting her own. She sensed uncertainty from him, then, hesitantly, relief and a tiny spark of hope.

She smiled softly at this, and sent him a wash of quiet reassurance. <I'm going to get to work now. If you have any questions, please do ask.>

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and slipped into the space in which she worked. Her breathing slowed, took on a steady rhythm. Normally she would urge her patient's heart and lungs to steady and match the pace she set, but with Vader that was impossible. His breathing and his heartbeat were already measured and even, their pace set by the machines that sustained his life. Instead, she matched her rhythm to his. In her mind she became a clear glass vessel, drawing in Force energy and letting it flow through her, the power compressed and shaped as it passed through her fingers. Her awareness sank into Vader's body, and she could see clearly the sullen colors of inflammation, of pain, of scarring, _everywhere_. Places where flesh met prosthetics or cybernetic implants were irritated, reminding her how little care had actually been taken when the medical droids had first rebuilt him.

To those places she sent a gentle wash of soothing energy, urging nerves and cells to relax. She sensed Vader relax just a fraction as she did, as a little of the pain eased. This was long-term pain, she knew, the kind that the brain just stopped registering after a time as part of the general background noise until it was gone. He probably hadn’t even noticed he hurt in those places until she’d soothed them.

_And it’s so unnecessary that he be in such pain!_

As always that thought burned in her mind. His injuries had been extensive, but it was plain to anyone with even a little knowledge of trauma surgery and recovery that the procedures used to put him back together again were shoddy at best and cruel at worst. There was unnecessary scarring everywhere, unnecessary implants and modifications, entire portions of his life support system and suit that were either outdated when they’d been added or just not up to the tasks they were purportedly for. They caused pain even as they kept him alive, and it angered her.

_This isn’t a life support suit, it’s a torture suit._

It was un-Jedi-like of her, the silent fury she nursed towards whoever had actually put him in the cursed thing. She didn’t care. She could control her anger, her emotions, without letting them consume her. Unlike most Jedi, she had never managed to master the ability of letting emotions go without feeling them. She was simply too strong an Empath, simply felt them too strongly. She had to let them wash over her, to feel them, then release them. Years of doing that in stressful situations had taught her how to control her actions even in the face of strong, sudden feelings. She would not lash out in anger, even if she felt it, would not hurt another for the sake of her own rage.

But oh, she felt it.

_I rather hope I never have to face the Emperor and whoever put Vader in this suit_ , she thought grimly. _I am fairly certain doing so would shatter my ability to hold on to my temper._

She felt that anger now and rather than push it away, she welcomed it, transmuting it into a stubborn determination and will to set things _right_ and drew on it to heal what had been wounded. That worked best as an outlet for the anger.

She’d never told anyone about her personal methods but Ayliah, knowing that even admitting to using anger in that way was against the Code and, had it been discovered what she was doing, would have gotten her in a lot of trouble. It certainly skirted the very edges of what was generally considered acceptable.

_Anger is the core to passion. Passion drives you to do things, to make changes, to set things right. It’s risky, because letting anger control you is a slippery slope and can all too easily lead to mistakes, to pain. But, tempered with compassion, it becomes a tool._

That was the idea she clung to, the idea she hoped kept her firmly rooted in the Light even as she occasionally skirted the Dark. Anger tempered with compassion, commanded by will. Anger controlled, directed, used to rebuild rather than destroy.

Years ago, when she’d looked at Anakin Skywalker and seen anger in him, she’d seen anger bound up in compassion. He had wanted so hard to make things right, to help people- but he’d never managed to learn how to control that anger and make it a tool, and in the end, both his anger and his passion had been used by Palpatine to manipulate and consume him.

_Oh dear one, I am so sorry. I wish I had made time to talk about all of this with you. Maybe if I had, things would have been different. Maybe you would have been less conflicted if you knew someone might understand_.

But there had never been time. She’d had her own Padawan to teach, and while she spent a lot of time at the Temple, Anakin had not. He’d always been off somewhere in the field with Obi-Wan before she’d gotten a chance to see how deep the problem went.

And it had been considered the height of rudeness to simply meddle with another Knight’s apprentice. If Obi-Wan had ever asked for her help… But he never had, always so grimly determined to be a good Jedi Knight and Master for his young student…

_Oh curse it all. I’m making excuses. I should have stepped in and I didn’t. I should have told him and I didn't. Plain as that._

Ayliah, she had told. Her own apprentice had a lot of anger and conflict lurking in her, stemming from a childhood not unlike Anakin’s own. Ayliah, she had taught how to grip that anger and turn it into a tool rather than a weapon. That was probably half the reason Ayliah could even bear to be in this room and working on Vader right now- she was just as angry as her former Master about the situation and was just as bound and determined to set things right.

Naroko doubted Ayliah knew that she was almost as angry at herself for her failure to live up to her responsibilities as she was at those who had left their patient half-healed and trapped in a torture suit.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to _focus_ , taking that anger and once more transmuting into passion, then putting that passion behind every bit of healing energy she poured into Vader’s damaged tissues. She had just finished mending his vocal cords when she sensed the heavy weight of his attention on her.

<Yes?>

<What are you doing?> There was confusion in his mental voice as he brushed her mind. She gave way before the touch, reshaping her mental shields to let him in enough to let him see. Surprise colored the feel of him with yellow and blue firefly sparks. <You’re- angry?>

<I am. Furious, actually.>

<How- what-> She sensed more confusion, a struggle to comprehend what he was seeing, and she waited for him to try and find words to shape his questions.

What came at her wasn’t words, but a stream of jumbled thoughts and snippets of concepts. _Jedi- anger- how haven’t you Fallen- what are you doing- why- USING anger HOW_.

Once more she waited, though this time wincing at the strength of the stream of ideas he was sending at her. When it had trailed off, she showed him what she was doing, how she was using the anger she felt as a tool.

<I am angry. You have been treated so poorly by your Master, and this suit of yours is nothing more than a cruel joke and a leash to keep you in line. There’s no excusing that. What was done to you offends every one of my sensibilities, every ethic I hold as a healer.> Had she been more aware of her body at that moment, she would have noticed she was drumming her fingers lightly on his shoulders as she pondered her responses. <And I feel too strongly to just let that anger go. So, rather than let it tangle me up and eat me from the inside, I use it.>

<But that’s of the Dark Side.>

<Anger used to lash out, to harm? Anger unfettered and untamed? Oh yes it is,> she agreed. <I don’t use it that way. I temper it with compassion. With kindness.>

That only got her a wash of confusion, but his attention was fixed on her even more intently. Her words were touching him on some level, and she sensed he _needed_ to hear this, needed to understand.

So she explained.

<It’s like having passion for a cause,> she told him. <Why does someone take up a cause?>

<Because they believe in it,> he said.

<And why is that? What is every person promoting a cause trying to do?>

He frowned, she could feel it, the twitch of muscles along with his concentration. <They’re… trying to get people angry about whatever the cause is.>

<Precisely. Angry people do things. They _do_ things. >

<But we were always taught that anger leads to pain and suffering.> Bitterness washed over him, tinged with resentment.

In return she sent him calm reassurance and comfort. <We were,> she agreed. <I found that a very… one-dimensional view. Not completely inaccurate, but not nearly nuanced enough to convey the entirety of the sentiment behind it. Anger can be used as a tool, but it _must_ be used carefully, and never by itself. You have to use it with compassion. > She absently stroked her thumbs over his collarbones. <Use it to do something good and kind. Not to slake your own rage, not to hurt others. To help.>

<I'm not sure I understand the difference.>

_Because they don't teach us the difference_ , she thought with just an edge of her own bitterness. The more time she had to look back on things, the more she had to question the rigidity of the Code and how it was so refined as to allow no alternate interpretations. There was only one Way in the eyes of the Jedi Code, and the penalties for not following that Way were often too harsh. <I am angry over what was done to you,> she explained, unconsciously falling into the calm tone she used when teaching. <We have agreed that anger is one thing that drives action. So. What actions can I take?>

<You could... go after the people who did this,> he said slowly. <Bring them to justice, or hurt them.>

<That's one way, yes. Or I can take that anger and use it to make things- well, if not right, then better for you. To mend what they refused to. To heal and rebuild. Turn it into a passion to make things better and a refusal to quit no matter what I might face.>

He was silent for long moments. She let him think, returning to the task of urging scar tissue to break down and for healthier tissue to take its place. There was a lot of scar tissue. That was a peculiarity of humans, actually. Humans healed fairly quickly, and could actually take a lot more punishment than most species, but the damage did not generally heal... neatly. The human body, in a desperate bid to regain functionality, threw up scar tissue everywhere to hold things together. The results were usually functional, to a point, but it never worked quite as well as what had been damaged, and it would take a long time for the scar tissue to be replaced by healthy tissue. If, of course, it ever did. What she was doing now was mostly accelerating that process. She packed the recovery of years, decades even, into a few minutes, urging Vader's body to replace scar tissue with healthy muscle or nerves or whatever was actually meant to be there.

<I don't know if I can do that,> he admitted at last.

Naroko drew back and _out_ until she was back in her own body and looking at him. He radiated pain, regret, and doubt, all twisted and turned in at himself in a blanket of bitterness.  <I don't know if you can either,> she replied. <You've spent a long time looking at the world in very different terms than I do. I'm a healer. I've always held to the idea of using my abilities to heal and relieve suffering. That colors how I think and act in a lot of ways. I don't know if it will work for someone who's spent his life fighting.> Again she brushed her thumbs over his collarbones, sending him a feeling very much like a hug. <Honestly, I'm not even trying to push for you to try. You asked what I was doing, how I was using my anger without running smack into the Dark Side and... that's how. It isn't always easy. There's a part of me that would quite like to do some rather painful things to Palpatine, for this and a whole host of other deeds.>

<You. Really.>

Her mouth curved in a rather vicious little smile. <Well. You know what they say about healers. They know how to take you apart because they know how you're put together.>

He stared at her for a moment before he seemed to realize that she was absolutely serious. Then his whole body jerked once, a hoarse rasp escaping him.

Only once Ayliah looked over Vader's shoulder to glare at them both did she understand what had happened. Vader had just laughed.

Naroko chuckled softly and let herself sink back into that state where her mind was linked to his body, deftly navigating the maze of blood and bone and metal until she found the place she wanted to work.

<In any case... that is what I do. Maybe it's something you can consider and try. I know it will be difficult, especially given where you have to be, but... it is something.> She paused, then added, <You were very close to it, you know. When you found those slavers on Coruscant.>

He tensed, the memory stirring up sullen embers of anger in him that quickly, too quickly, became flames. She sensed his hands tighten on the edge of the table, making the duraplast creak in protest.

< _Peace,_ Vader, > she told him firmly, before that anger could burst free of his control. <You chose not to slaughter them all, though Force, I'd be hard-pressed to argue that they didn't deserve it.>

That statement had the effect of throwing cold water in his face. He started, a real, physical moment, and looked at her in confusion.

<Slavery is an ugly, nasty practice that demeans those its practiced on and brings out the worst in those who practice it,> she told him flatly. <And I despise it. You have so much more reason to hate it than me, and yet, even with that, you didn't just rage through and destroy everything in your path. You kept your anger targeted at those who deserved it, saw the slaves would have the means to provide for themselves, and even let the slavers go. I think, even just a year before then, you would have handled the matter much differently.>

He thought this over. Slowly, the anger eased. It didn't die down completely, but the flames did sink back into embers once more. <It was more important to help the slaves,> he said slowly. <More important to make sure they got away than it was to destroy the slavers. I killed one, but that was as much to keep the others in line as anything else. I wanted to free the slaves more than I wanted to hurt the slavers.>

She smiled, and she let him feel her pride. She'd challenged him openly that day, pushed and prodded and forced him to make a choice, maneuvered him into a position where he'd be forced to act.

And he had. He had made his choice, and he had acted on it.

<That was the moment when I first knew, really knew, I was doing the right thing by reaching out to help you,> she told him.

Silence. An edge of not-quite suspicion, then resignation.

<And everything before that?> he asked. <Those three years you spent pestering me, then talking?>

<Hope,> she said. <Hope that I might make a difference, that I could either bring you back or deprive Palpatine of you. Anything to help weaken the Empire.> Then it was her turn to fall silent. <Though... said like that it makes you sound like you're nothing more than a tool, and I am sorry for that. It isn't right. You are worth helping for your own sake.>

Self-loathing, flavored with more bitter sarcasm aimed right at her. <Don't coddle me,> he retorted. <And don't lie to yourself. I wasn't worth helping. Not at first. I wanted to kill you when I first learned you were alive, and it wasn't just because you went out of your way to distract me at crucial moments. I don't think even you could have looked at me three years ago and decided to help me solely out of the goodness of your heart.>

The words were like a splash of cold water to the face, and she reeled mentally for a moment. She didn't quite know how to respond to that.

Mostly because he wasn't actually wrong.

<I- alright. Yes. I am not entirely sure I could have tried so hard to help you just because I believed you needed it. Not then,> she admitted.

<Hmph.> The sharp edge of his presence eased, seemingly mollified by her admission. <So. You had a tactical motivation for approaching me and manipulating me.>

<Yes.>

<And it evolved. Because even if you couldn't help me purely because you thought I needed it, you're still you, Naroko Chiston. You get attached and see the potential in people. The good in them. You think with patience and kindness you can coax it out.>

He was right, but it still felt like an accusation.

<And so what?> she retorted. <What's so wrong with that? I got attached. And at some point along the line, I came to want to help you for your sake. That was _always_ part of why I approached you. Even if it wasn't the sole reason, I always hoped I could help you. And then you started proving me right. That you weren't lost completely. You'll recall it was only after you did that I suggested you start coming to me for treatment. >

<I didn't say it was wrong.> His mental voice was flat and even. <I get it, Naroko. I get why you started showing up and turning things upside down on me. I get what you were doing and why. Just don't lie to yourself about any of it, and don't coddle me. I've had enough of being patronized in my life.>

She paused, opening her eyes to look at him, then bowed her head a little. <I see... yes, of course. I apologize, Vader.>

He regarded her in turn, then nodded stiffly. The sharp irritation eased out of him as he settled. <You can get back to work,> he said. <I can only be here for so long.>

Pink-cheeked and smarting just a little from the discussion but willing to cede the point, she returned to her task. Alright. So she shouldn't have sugarcoated her reasoning to him. But his very reaction proved something else to her- that he was willing to accept the harsher truths of her motivations so long as she was honest about them. That was a rather big step for him.

_So. If it's honesty he wants and will respond to, then honesty he will get._

She would take the lesson to heart for further dealings with him.

  
  


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